


Good Night, Sweet Prince

by Brate



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brate/pseuds/Brate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleep deprivation is not funny...unless it's happening to someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Night, Sweet Prince

Exhausted, Major John Sheppard walked slowly to his quarters. All he wanted to do was reacquaint himself with a long lost friend…his bed. Just outside his door, he almost collided with a staggering body from the other direction.

"Oops, sorry." John looked up. "Hey, McKay."

The scientist walked past him without acknowledgement.

"Rodney?"

"Gotta feed the cat," McKay mumbled, without stopping.

"Cat? What cat?" John's question was ignored and McKay disappeared around the bend. Deciding sleep could wait a few minutes longer, John followed his friend.

McKay was moving along at a slow but steady pace, taking no notice of anything around him. John followed at a short distance, observing and hoping for a clue to explain what was going on. The scientist stumbled and nearly fell, before righting himself and continuing his journey.

 _All righty then._ Even for McKay, this was not normal. John hustled and got in front of Rodney, blocking his path. McKay walked straight into him.

Sheppard grabbed McKay by the shoulders and shook him gently. "McKay…McKay, look at me."

Rodney looked up, saw John, and smiled goofily. "Major Sheppard."

Relieved the scientist at least recognized him, John smiled back. "Yeah."

Rodney nodded and leaned in. "I gotta feed the cat," he said seriously. He tried to break out of John's grip, but Sheppard held tight.

"Okay…" No idea what else to do, John asked, "Can I help?"

"Help?" Rodney seemed confused.

"I want to help you feed the cat."

"Okay." Rodney began to nod rapidly. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, that could work." He fairly hummed with electricity. "All right, you take the right and I'll come in from the left." With surprising strength, he broke from John's grip and ducked down, crawling along the floor.

John closed his mouth, not wanting to be seen gaping like a fish. Really not cool. And not a good way to inspire confidence in his men. He walked behind Rodney, waving away other people's concern. "It's all right," John told one inquiring passerby, "he's just looking for something he lost…"

She nodded politely.

"…his marbles," John finished after she walked away.

McKay crawled through the infirmary door.

 _Thank God_. He had wanted to seek Carson Beckett's help but not announce it over the radio. If Rodney's odd behavior got out, the scientist would definitely be targeting some revenge on Sheppard—however innocent he may be. And the major did not relish pissing off a man able to build an atomic bomb.

"Psst." John tried to get the doctor's attention while not losing sight of his wayward, still-scuttling scientist. "Psst, Beckett."

"Sprung a leak, have we, Major?"

"Actually, I think Rodney is the one running a few quarts low."

"What?"

John waved Beckett over. "Down there." He pointed to McKay. The scientist was peeking under a gurney, clicking his tongue at something unseen.

"What in God's name is he doing?"

"Feeding a cat."

Beckett frowned at Sheppard. "Have you gone loopy, son?"

John held his hands up. "I'm the sane one, I swear. He ran into me outside my room and told me he had to feed the cat."

Comprehension dawned on the doctor's face. Frustration quickly followed. "Ach, he's gone and done it."

John's eyes widened. "Done what?"

"Gotten so damn sleep-deprived he's sleepwalking." Looking down at McKay, Beckett corrected, "Well, sleep _crawling_."

"He's asleep?" John sputtered. "But his eyes were open and he talked to me."

"That's the way it works sometimes. While sleepwalking, a person may engage in a variety of motor activities common during waking hours."

"Seriously?"

"Stress and fatigue increase the chances of a person sleepwalking because they force the body to go into deeper sleep," Beckett continued, "allowing the dysfunctional transition into deep sleep to occur more readily, leading to somnambulism. Fascinating, really."

"Too much information, Doc." Watching McKay crawl to the other side of the room, John asked, "What do we do with 'im?"

"Help me get him on a bed and I'll drug him into next Tuesday."

John quirked an eyebrow. "Is he gonna remember any of this?"

"Not likely."

"Hmmm." He held up a finger. "Can you hold off on the drugging for just a minute?"

"What? Why?"

"I need to go grab something first." John leaned down and nudged Rodney. "I think the cat is under there." He pointed at the corner cabinet.

Rodney crawled to the directed location. "Here, kitty, kitty."

Grinning, John raced out of the infirmary, returning a couple minutes later. Pulling out a camcorder, he recorded Rodney McKay, the Atlantis expedition's lead scientist, on his hands and knees, calling for a nonexistent feline.

Putting the camera away, Sheppard told Beckett, "All set, Doc." The two men each grabbed one of Rodney's arms, picked him off the floor, and settled him onto a bed.

Beckett stabbed a syringe into McKay's arm and depressed the plunger. "You are evil, Major."

"Some might think so," Sheppard agreed. He watched McKay close his eyes and quickly drift off to sleep—real sleep. "Want a copy?"

"Damn right I do," Beckett answered with a grin.


End file.
